


As Subtle as Anvils

by Katie (katieandsav)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Again, M/M, and cutiepie cas, destiel first time, gabe is a little shit, he's always a little shit, homicidal dean is also here, katie's shit, sam is his co-little shit too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katieandsav/pseuds/Katie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel and Sam are convinced all Dean and Cas need is a little push in the right direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Subtle as Anvils

It all started because Sam and his goddamned brat of a boyfriend decided that they wanted to go on a “double date” with Dean and Cas (which was already stupid and annoying because they knew Dean and Cas were just friends but  _no_ , treating them like they were a couple was  _exactly_  the way to make sure the two were completely comfortable in one another's presence). 

Of course, Dean objected, like any normal human being would. But once again, the goddamned brat of a boyfriend (who was actually called Gabriel but Dean was currently refusing to say that heathen's name since his decision to pretend he didn't exist because, quite honestly, he'd probably murder Gabriel if he ever saw/heard/thought of him again) refused to drop the subject, as was his usual manner, until Dean got so pissed off that he practically yelled his agreement. 

And then the goddamned brat of a boyfriend grinned that shit-eating grin that made Dean want to punch him square in his stupid smirking mouth.

The Night That It Happened (or “The Night Dean Swore to Murder Gabriel the Moment Sam Wasn't Looking”, depending on who you asked) started out simple enough. Of course, Dean was already in a monumentally shitty mood by the time everyone piled into the Impala to head off to the pretentious restaurant Gabriel and Sam had insisted on reserving a place at. 

The entire day, Sam and Gabriel had been shooting each other looks that they thought Dean didn't see but of course he did because those two were about as subtle as freakin'  _anvils_. 

What really got them kicking was when Castiel asked Dean if what he was wearing was suitable for a date (to which Dean responded, “Cas, this isn't a date,” and Cas asked why Gabriel and Sam were calling it a date, then, and Dean told him it was because Gabriel and Sam were conspiring, traitorous assholes that he never wanted to associate with ever again). Of course, since this was Cas, he'd picked out a combination of white sneakers, a blue suit jacket with black pants, a piano tie and, just to top it all off, a purple and orange Hawaiian shirt. 

Whether it was a date or not, Dean wouldn't want to be seen anywhere near someone wearing that hell-creation of an outfit, so he had to lend Cas one of his own monkey suits (Cas steadfastly refused to wear his normal suit since “This is a special occasion, Dean”). When Gabriel saw Dean buttoning up Castiel's shirt for him and fixing his tie (because, even after 40,000 odd years of existence, the angel still didn't know how to tie a damn tie), he somehow managed to take a picture of the pair and show it to Sam before Dean lunged at him in an attempt to strangle him. 

When Dean walked into his bedroom to grab his jacket, he found that the walls were covered in four gigantic repeats of the image. To Dean's horror, he realised that the picture gave off the wrong impression—from the angle it had been taken, it looked as if Dean was smirking while unbuttoning Castiel's shirt. 

He threw an apple at Gabriel the next time he saw him. 

So, when they walked into the restaurant—some place called Le Petit Fromage, and even though the most Dean knew of the French language was a few key words a ditzy blonde had screamed out while he was, ahem, entertaining her, he was pretty damn sure that the name of the restaurant wasn't as fancy as it appeared—Dean was positively homicidal. 

Deceptively, though, the evening seemed to improve once they’d sat down at their table. Sam and Gabriel took the booth seat, so Dean and Cas had their own chairs—this meant no accidental touches between the two, thank god. 

The champagne they got was good and the food was even better (except for the part when Gabriel ordered a banana and ate it in a way that made Sam cross his legs and Dean feel like barfing, but he managed to ignore that bit). 

Even the waitress was nice, with a curvy figure and an impressive bust. 

And then, as they have a remarkable tendency to do in Dean's life, things went to shit. 

As the group arrived back at the bunker, Gabriel said in the most nonchalant tone possible, “By the way, Dean, I've been meaning to congratulate you on your sex dream last night. It sounded real fun.” 

Dean froze the moment the words left Gabriel's lips. After a second, he forced a shaky laugh. “Strippers are the best.” 

“You're telling me, kid,” Gabriel said, pulling off his jacket and tossing it on a couch. “Was her name Cassandra?” 

“What the hell? No.” 

“Then why could I hear you moaning the name Cas all night? Maybe I heard wrong.” 

And with that, the archangel practically sashayed out the room. 

For a few moments, Dean felt rooted to the spot. Even when Sam waved a hand in front of the older Winchester's face, he didn't respond. Even when Cas lied that he didn't believe what Gabriel had said, he couldn't bring himself to reply. 

In those moments, Dean felt a sort of terror that he'd never experienced before. 

Then, with a deep inhalation, he shot Cas--who was still standing in front of him and watching him concernedly--a tight-lipped smile and said, “Well, I think I'm done for the night.” He turned and half-stumbled, half-ran to his room. 

Of course, Cas being Cas, he reappeared right in Dean's path, causing Dean to almost barrel straight into him. 

“Dean, you seem upset,” Castiel observed. 

“I'm fine,” grunted Dean as he pushed past the angel into his room. The pictures were still on his walls. Dean exhaled sharply, grabbed a glass off his bedside table, and hurled it at one of the pictures. 

Cas followed him into his room, frowning at the shattered glass on the floor. “You appear to be lying.” 

“I'm  _fine,_ Cas,” Dean snapped as he whirled around to face the angel. Cas looked at him, his expression placid, then walked over to him. Dean stepped back but didn't go far before the backs of his knees knocked his mattress.

“I don't understand why you're upset,” Cas said, examining Dean's face with those stupidly, insanely blue eyes. Dean felt like he was being taken apart, as if Cas could read all the emotions churning inside of him like a book.

All he could say was, “Gabriel is a fucking asshole.” 

“Yes.” Cas nodded. “He is. But that doesn't explain your discomfort.” 

“Look, if you don't get it, then I suppose that's a good thing and we should just drop the subject and move on with life like normal.” 

Cas tilted his head, brows pulling together. “I know that you're upset Gabriel told me about your dream, Dean, but I don't understand why. I don't mind.” 

“Yeah, well, you should because it's fucking sick of me to think about you like that because we're supposed to be  _friends_ , Cas.” Dean could feel his face flushing. Why the hell couldn't Cas just say he was gross or weird or yell at him and hit him the way he had when Dean had told him he was going to say yes to Michael? Why couldn't the damn angel just have a normal reaction to something for  _once_  in his goddamned existence?

“Dean, I'm flattered that you would think of me in such a way--”

Suddenly, Dean was shouting. “Shut up, Cas. Just— _shut up,_ okay? I didn't mean to have that dream and I didn't mean to have the ones before that and if I could just stop having them or just not sleep at all, I would, but I don't have a choice. And maybe if you at least  _pretended_  to be angry, it would train me out of it or--”

But before Dean could take his next breath, Cas had shoved him up against the wall. “ _Dean.”_ Cas' words were quiet and deliberate as he studied the Winchester. “I. Don't. Mind.” 

And suddenly, Dean realised that, for the first time since he'd met Cas, he was the one missing the hints. 

They stood there for a moment, silent, as they watched each other. Then, they were kissing; their mouths crushed together, hard and desperate, and the only thing going through Dean's mind was  _how the hell does he know to kiss like this?_ because this Castiel wasn't awkward or confused. This Castiel kissed fiercely, his hands cupping Dean's face to bring him closer; with each movement of his lips, he reduced Dean's world further till the only things that mattered were the taste, the touch and the scent of Cas.

There was something magical about Castiel's lips, as if Dean could taste the power of his Grace; it made Dean feel giddy, drunk. Maybe this was why Sam put up with Gabriel. 

Suddenly, Dean stopped returning the kiss. “Cas, we can't do this,” he whispered against the angel's lips. “Imagine what Sam and Gabriel will have to say about—”

“This isn't about them, Dean,” replied Cas with a sense of finality as he coaxed Dean's lips apart again with his own.

After a while, Dean managed to regain his senses enough to gently push Cas back a few steps until they both toppled onto the bed. For the first time in what seemed like hours, Cas broke away to blink up at Dean with those cobalt eyes, and in that moment Dean realised how very much he loved Cas.

“Cas, I...” Dean started breathlessly as he stared at Cas. He radiated ethereal beauty with his dark hair tousled from Dean's hands, his lips kissed flush, his eyes bright with something that looked very close to—

Dean refused to let the thought finish. Things were wonderful enough already; he didn’t want to get his hopes up for anything.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas murmured, the slightest of smiles playing on his lips.

All the desperation left Dean in an instant; he kissed the corner of Cas' mouth with careful softness as he replied, “Awesome.”

Any breath that had been in Dean's lungs was shocked out of him when Cas, with a small, almost cheeky smile, trailed a couple kisses down his neck. Dean allowed his eyes to flutter shut, mouthing Cas' name over and over to himself. 

Castiel's long fingers undid Dean's jacket, pulling it off him. The movement would've been successful if Cas hadn't miscalculated the length of Dean's arms and got him tangled in the sleeves instead. The two blinked at each other, Cas frozen in his attempt to detangle Dean from the suit jacket, then simultaneously burst into laughter. Cas dropped his gaze sheepishly. “My apologies, Dean. Perhaps you should remove your own jacket.” 

Dean grinned at him and sat up, pulling off the jacket and tossing it aside. “No problem.” He relaxed on top of Cas again, the angel pressing a light kiss to the crook of his neck. 

Dean hid his face in the Castiel’s dark hair as the angel brushed a line of slow, gentle kisses along his collarbone. _This is happening,_ he thought. _I’m kissing my best friend._

To Dean’s surprise, Castiel flipped them over so he lay on top of the Winchester. Dean shut his eyes as he felt Cas unbuttoning his dress shirt; every time Castiel released a button, he pressed a kiss to the newly-bared skin of Dean’s chest. Each touch of Cas’ lips sent lightning strikes of electricity through Dean’s body. By the time his shirt was off, he was nearly panting in his attempt to keep still.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean got out when Cas leant up again, grabbing the lapels of Castiel’s jacket and pulling him up for another deep kiss.

The last thing Dean was expecting was Cas to pull back and ask cautiously if Dean was okay.

He stared at Cas for a second, then released a breath of laughter. “Yeah,” Dean replied. “Yeah, I… I’m awesome, Cas.” He paused. “Are _you_ okay?”

Cas nodded. “I’m fine, Dean. As long as you’re happy, I am too.”

Dean felt his smile fade. He brushed his thumb along Castiel’s cheekbone, trailing his fingertips down his jaw until his hand finally dropped to his side again. Dean swallowed and looked down, internally scolding himself for going along with this whole idea. He’d known it’d been too easy, too simple, too perfect. “Cas, why are you doing this?”

The angel looked at him perplexedly. “Dean, I thought this is what you wanted.”

“It’s real nice, Cas. I mean, it’s kinda amazing. But we can’t do this… this… whatever we’re doing—we can’t do it just because of me, y’know? Cas, I, ah… I—” Dean hesitated and inhaled deeply to steel himself as he decided sooner was better than later. “I love you and I, um, don’t want you to feel pressured into anything. Or whatever.”

Castiel looked at Dean for a moment, then squirmed out from beneath him. Dean felt his heart drop. Then, Cas said his name quietly, so, trying to keep his expression neutral, Dean pushed himself up to face his angel, who sat cross-legged in front of him.

“Dean,” Cas said again, his gravelly voice barely audible, “do you truly think that I would do these things with someone who I did not love?”

(This was the point when Dean stopped breathing altogether.)

“You are… the kindest, bravest, most intelligent human to ever walk this earth,” Cas continued. His gaze fell to his hands and he frowned, as if he couldn’t figure out how to phrase his words. “Raising you from Perdition was possibly the… best thing I have ever done. Your soul, Dean—it’s scarred. But even in my wildest dreams, I could never have imagined its beauty.” He shook his head and glanced up. “Dean, I’m not good with words. But what I’m trying to say is that I love you, too. And whilst I have always been curious about these things—kissing, touching, even intercourse—” Castiel shrugged, “—seeing them making you happy increases how much I enjoy them—”

Cas didn’t get to finish his sentence before Dean was kissing him again, long and slow and deep. The next few minutes—or maybe they were hours; time had lost meaning—were a whirlwind of kisses and light, tentative touches trailing down Dean’s back and chest. Somewhere along the line, Cas’ jacket and shirt were discarded, too, as well as both his and Dean’s pants, and soon after, their—

Well, the rest is probably simple to figure out.

That night, Dean would later decide, was different to any other he had ever experienced. It was blatantly honest, for one thing—Cas apologised for his inexperience, and Dean admitted that he hadn’t exactly done this with a guy before, either.

It was gentle, filled with soft kisses and murmurs of, “Are you okay?” and “If you don’t want to do this, we can always stop.”

And finally, because this was Cas, after all, it was awkward—but not in a bad way. Each fumble and bump was charming and set the two at ease with the situation again; at one point, Cas accidentally rolled off the bed, pulling Dean with him, and the two had to take a break for a while due to their uncontrollable bursts of laughter. Instead, they lay with their limbs entangled and their bodies as close as they could get, telling each other stories—even the ones that had been told before.

Most of all, it was the first time in as long as Dean could remember that he had experienced something so dizzyingly perfect.

(However, this didn’t stop him and Cas from plotting how to get back at Gabriel for interfering the next day.)

 

* * *

 

_Friday night, 3AM._

“I can’t believe they’re still going at it,” Sam said incredulously.

“I guess five years of unrelieved sexual tension really gets the libido going, huh?” Gabriel replied, snuggling into Sam again.

Sam shook his head, shocked. “I guess. But how long’s it been—five hours? Is that even _possible_? And, okay, maybe they’ve suddenly realised how in love they are or whatever, but could they at least keep it down a little so we could slee—”

Sam was cut off by a loud, gruff voice yelling up from the basement.

“Bloody hell, you two!” he heard Crowley shout. “Would you put your pants back on already? Holding me hostage is one thing, but this is purely inhumane.”

Dean and Cas went silent in the next room.

“ _Finally_ ,” said Sam before he settled down and shut his eyes.

He felt Gabe shift. “Hey, Sammy?”

“Mm?”

“You owe me ten bucks.”

“I can’t believe you were being serious about that bet.”

“What! Dean and Cas did the do—so pay up, moose.”

“Okay, I’ll give you two dollars.”

“Five bucks and you let me top next time.”

“Deal. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

“Love you, Samsquatch.”

“Love you, too, Gabe.”


End file.
